


I Just Assumed (Happy Anniversary)

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond and Q need to communicate, Established Relationship, M/M, a wee smidge of angst but mostly fluff and silliness, but they'll get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Q had been under the impression that he and Bond were on the same page as far as expressions of affection went - that is, they should be quiet, understated, and allowed to pass without a fuss. The morning of their three year anniversary, however, Q begins to wonder if he's been wrong





	I Just Assumed (Happy Anniversary)

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a prompt I saw a looong time ago. Greatest thanks to [azure](https://azure7539arts.tumblr.com/) for talking this one out with me, I definitely would've let it slip otherwise, and then we wouldn't have 2k of Bond and Q being dumb butts who are very in love but don't talk to each other

Q felt he couldn’t be blamed for waking with expectations that morning; after all, Bond had indulged him with breakfast in bed the morning of their six-month anniversary, and with a very enthusiastic round of sex when he woke on the one-year anniversary of their first date.

This, however, was the morning of their improbable three-year anniversary. At the beginning, Q hadn’t expected their relationship to make it so far, and had never been so thoroughly pleased to be wrong.

There did not appear to be anything sweet (or steamy) awaiting Q, but that was fine. Bond’s anniversary gifts varied, coming at whatever time of day he deemed most appropriate. Even if Bond was out of the country at the time, he’d always arranged for the delivery of something or other to Q; it was all very sweet.

Bond _was_ in the country at the moment, as it happened, though he did not seem to be in bed beside Q where he’d fallen asleep the previous night. In his place there was a note, which Q picked up and squinted blearily at in the weak morning sunshine.

_Gone on a run, be back with breakfast  
-J_

Well that was hardly romantic.

Ah, well, that was fine. Q had to get ready for work, anyway; he was sure whatever Bond had planned would be well worth the wait.

The gifts and surprises were never large or extravagant; usually it was nothing more than a special meal or some time together. It was often something understated and small and perfect – the sort of thing Bond and Q often weren’t able to indulge in, their lives being what they were.

Q tried not to have expectations, but couldn’t help reflecting on anniversaries of the past as he went through his shower and morning routine, heading for the kitchen with an excited bounce in his step when he heard Bond arrive home from his run. Perhaps he’d get some kind of clue as to what Bond’s plans were and decide when he could best present Bond with his own gift.

“Good morning,” Q greeted, stepping over and around the cats to reach Bond, who was placing a bag from the bakery down the street on the kitchen counter.

“Morning.” Bond leaned in to peck Q on the cheek when he finally made it over.

Q turned his head, catching Bond’s lips with his own and holding him with a slow good morning kiss. He itched for a moment to tell Bond “Happy Anniversary,” to smile and laugh and be giddy that Bond was _there_, but that wasn’t how they did things. At least, it wasn’t how Bond did things.

Over the years, Q had gathered that Bond _liked_ things to be quiet and understated. He didn’t verbally acknowledge anniversaries, he rarely even said “I love you” aloud, and Q did his best to defer to Bond’s preferences. He didn’t need words, after all; Bond was very good with actions.

So instead of gushing about the date when they pulled apart, Q playfully wrinkled his nose and told Bond, “You’re in need of a shower.”

Bond rolled his eyes, exaggerated and hiding some amusement. “This is the thanks I get for going out early to get breakfast,” he grumbled.

“And I’ll be very thankful, as long as you didn’t sweat on it,” Q teased.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s sweat all over it,” Bond replied loftily, practically snickering when Q frowned in distaste.

“Ew.” Q’s nose wrinkled with real displeasure this time, and Bond only smiled as he made for the kitchen door.

“I’m going to take that shower. I’ll see you at work?” Bond paused at the door to glance back at Q.

“Oh.” They didn’t always go into work together, but Q had assumed they would that day; evidently, Bond had other ideas. “Um. Yes. Lunch?”

Bond smiled. “Sounds good. Be safe,” he said, and it sounded so much like _I love you_, that Q couldn’t really be put out.

“Of course,” Q answered readily. “I’m not the field agent here.”

Shaking his head, still smiling, Bond turned down the hall, leaving Q to dig into the bag of – oh, croissants, lovely – and make himself a very large mug of tea to head to the office with.

-/-/-

The croissants had been very nice, but somehow Q doubted they were in honor of the date. The anticipation of whatever Bond’s actual surprise was, however, was putting Q on edge.

Every message could have been from Bond (but wasn’t), every unexpected approach from a lower-level Q brancher could have been orchestrated by Bond (he’d roped Q’s people into his plans once or twice before, but apparently hadn’t this time), and even his mobile was subject to antsy over-checking (no messages came through from Bond, though he did get a picture of Moneypenny’s new puppy when she took her midmorning break).

It was a relief when Bond showed up for lunch, but a bit confounding when all he did was offer Thai from the place nearby and ask how Q’s day had been.

Q certainly wasn’t disappointed to see Bond, but he would admit—if only to himself—to a certain frustrated curiosity.

They had a nice lunch all the same, then a minor emergency took up Q’s attention for the rest of the afternoon and early evening and he’d quite forgotten about his and Bond’s anniversary by the time Bond showed up to offer him a ride home.

It wasn’t until they were shedding respective work clothes and Bond was asking what Q would like for dinner that it all came rushing back, and Q felt abruptly irritated – just what was Bond playing at? Had he forgotten their anniversary? Did he have a gift for Q or didn’t he?

Shame came rushing in on the heels of the last thought; Bond certainly wasn’t obligated to get Q anything, or to do anything but be there. Even if he _had_ forgotten their anniversary, he’d remembered all the others – even the frivolous, little ones. Q was letting his racing thoughts run rampant, and there was really no need to throw a fit, not even an internal one.

“I’ll make dinner,” Q offered quickly.

Bond’s brows went up. “Are you sure? Seemed like you had a lot on your plate today.”

“As long as you don’t expect gourmet, I think I’ll manage,” Q said wryly. “Besides, you got breakfast and lunch. It’s my turn to do something for you.”

“Alright,” Bond said after a moment of scrutiny. “Let me know if you want help.”

He pressed a quick kiss to Q’s cheek, causal and gentle and undemanding and all sorts of things Q never thought he’d have with Bond, and Q decided this was a perfectly fine way to spend their third anniversary.

-/-/-

It _was_ a perfectly fine way to spend their anniversary. It really was. They had dinner and watched a film and talked and got into bed and Bond had his book and Q had his tablet and it was all very domestic and lovely.

Except Q’s mind was scratching itself half to pieces.

He’d never been good at not knowing things; he always wanted the answer, even when it was to his detriment. He’d been told off as a child more times than he could count by people who insisted that curiosity had killed the cat.

When Q was nine and had learned the rest of the phrase—_but satisfaction brought it back_—he’d chosen to live by that belief from then on. Aside from pissing off a lot of the adults in his life at the time, it had largely served him well.

Now, though, he just couldn’t stop _wondering._

Perhaps Bond had forgotten their anniversary. Or perhaps… perhaps Q had done something?

Certainly Bond _seemed_ fine, and he wasn’t the type to go on pretending nothing was wrong if something had irritated him, so it wasn’t likely that he was angry with Q – but that left other options. Had Q done something (or not done something?) that had made Bond decide it simply wasn’t worth the effort of celebrating?

Thinking back, Q couldn’t pinpoint a behavior of his that had changed recently; much as he was good at moving with change, he was also a creature of habit, which meant that it must have been a long-standing flaw.

But how was Q meant to fix that? _Was_ it something he could fix? Would he even want to, provided he could?

“Q.”

Q jumped slightly when Bond’s hand found his knee through the sheets.

“Are you alright?” Bond asked.

_“Yes,”_ Q blurted, then winced. “Sorry. I’m fine. Why?”

“You had that overthinking look on your face. And you’re practically vibrating.” Bond squeezed Q’s knee gently.

“Ah.” Q frowned down at Bond’s hand where it rested; as long as they were on the subject… “Are _you_ okay?”

“…yes?” Bond answered after a moment, and when Q glanced over at him, he was giving Q the one-eyebrow-raised look that usually meant _I have no idea what you’re on about but I’m willing to humor you._ “Is here a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“No, of course not.” Q shook his head. “It’s… I mean, I suppose it’s a bit silly, particularly bringing it up now, but. Well, today was our anniversary.”

For a moment, Bond went very tellingly still. Perhaps he simply had forgotten after all.

“Our third?” Q added.

“Yes, I know,” Bond replied almost immediately. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

_“What?”_ Q blinked at Bond, bewildered.

Bond thought _he’d_ forgotten?

Bond thought he’d _forgotten?_

“Maybe not forgotten, but just that you didn’t much care,” Bond amended, as if that was somehow better.

“You think I don’t_ care?”_ Q demanded, uncertain if he should be hurt or angry or if there was a third option he was unaware of.

“I’m beginning to see that’s not the case,” Bond said quickly.

“Oh, do you really think so?” Q snapped, then took a breath; sniping wouldn’t help. “Why did you think I didn’t care? I’ve always tried to do something for them.”

Bond’s brows furrowed. “You have?”

Q tried not to gape. “You haven’t _noticed?”_

“Well, no, I’m sure I _have_, I just – may not have known what it was I was noticing,” Bond scrambled, attempting to fix the statement.

“Oh god, no wonder you think I don’t give a shit, you think I haven’t been doing anything for you,” Q groaned, covering his eyes with one hand.

“No, you do things for me. I know you do,” Bond insisted, taking Q’s free hand. “You set up that picnic last year, I remember that.”

“That was _for_ our anniversary!” Q burst out.

There was a moment of silence in which Q could nearly hear Bond thinking. “But that was over a week later.”

“Yes, well, I had to wait for us to have a coinciding day off when it wasn’t raining,” Q admitted. “Not one of my better plans.”

Q took his hand away from his eyes and glanced over at Bond, who was just near enough that, even without his glasses, Q could tell he was searching his memory. After a moment, Q took pity on him. “There was the laser pen for the one-year of our first date. I had to wait on that one because you didn’t get your next assignment until a few days later.”

“Oh,” a pleased look crossed Bond’s face, “I liked that pen.”

“You must have, you managed to keep it intact for three whole missions,” Q teased. “For our one year, I played the piano for you the first time, remember? I just couldn’t do it until you came back from Jordan.”

After a moment, Bond nodded. “I do remember that.”

“Must’ve played for at least an hour.” Q paused, then added, “And then I let you fuck me on the piano bench.”

“Don’t pretend that was entirely for my benefit.” Bond smirked, and Q rolled his eyes.

“_I_ would’ve picked somewhere more comfortable,” he insisted, though there was a sharp little grin tugging at his own lips.

Bond’s amusement held for a moment longer before his expression became more serious. “Q, why didn’t you just tell me those were anniversary gifts?”

“Well why didn’t _you?”_ Q couldn’t quite help but snap back.

“Honestly? I didn’t think you were a fan of romantic gestures. I wanted to do something for you, but I thought saying it out loud would be too much.” Bond rolled his shoulders. “Apparently, that wasn’t quite accurate.”

Q stared at Bond. He stared for so long that he could see Bond growing concerned, but couldn’t help it because – “That’s… that’s the same goddamn reason _I_ never said it out loud.”

“You’re joking,” Bond deadpanned.

Q pursed his lips. “Nope,” he managed, before dissolving into incredulous giggles.

Bond let his head fall back, exasperated. “Oh god, we’re both idiots.”

“Her – Her Majesty’s fucking finest,” Q managed between snickers, and then Bond was joining in his laughter, breathless and fond and maybe a little relieved.

“I’m sorry,” Q said when they’d finally calmed down enough to continue their conversation. “I never wanted to make you feel unappreciated.”

“It’s fine,” Bond promised.

“No, I really do love all the little things you do. Meals or thoughtful little gifts–”

“Q, it’s _fine._” Bond reached over, cupping Q’s chin with one hand and turning him so he was looking at Bond. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not unless you want to sit here while I atone for not realizing you were giving me gifts in return all this time.”

Q hummed. “Atonement doesn’t sound terrible, depending on your method.”

Bond’s smirk was back. “Oh?”

“Mm. Do it properly and you might even get me to tell you your gift early.” Q grinned.

“I do like the sound of that. And I suppose I need a gift for you now that I realize you actually _do_ like celebrating anniversaries,” Bond murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

Q indulged for a moment before pulling back regretfully. “You know you don’t have to give me anything, right?” He couldn’t believe he was going to say this, it was horrendously soppy, yet it felt like it needed to come out. “Just you, being here – you’re enough.”

“I know Q.” The smile Bond gave him was softer than his previous attentions would have implied, filled with raw affection. “But I find I’d very much like to give you something anyway.”

“Well. I suppose that’s alright, then,” Q replied, and said nothing more as Bond drew him into a kiss that lasted far longer than the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/187400444733/i-just-assumed-happy-anniversary-james-bond), where you can usually find me


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